Healing Souls
by ladyd10
Summary: What little thing that is not so little from someone that uderstands her the most will help to heal her soul after Somalia?


_**Healing the Soul**_

_**a/n: As I was watching season 7, I noticed that the Star of David necklace that Saleem ripped from Ziva's neck did not appear for quite some time. It was eventually replaced by another just after the holidays. My take on where it came from and why.**_

"Hey, Ziva, wait up!" Tony called as Ziva made her way to the elevator.

She turned and slowed, waiting for him. "I am on my way home. Did you need anything?"

Tony caught up with her. "Yeah, I was wondering if you had any plans for tonight. See, I got this new DVD set and I don't feel like watching it alone. I'll even make your favorite lasagna if you'll come over in about an hour and watch it with me."

"Movie set?"

"The Die Hard series. It's on this new Blu-Ray and I just got player. I can't hog the the surround sound all to myself. What do you say?" Tony pressed, knowing he sounded like an idiot. He really didn't want her over to watch movies with him, but for something far more personal and private.

Ziva looked him up and down. He was hiding something. Her curiosity was piqued."Alright. Let me go home and change and I will be over in about an hour."

Tony smiled a 1,000 watt smile at her. "Great! I'll get that lasagna started."

"I will bring wine."

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Tony paced his living room nervously. He had no idea on how he was going to do it, none at all. He had hoped that it would have been in before Hanukkah, but it was backlogged. He got it just yesterday. It was utterly perfect. A perfect replica of the one she used to have. Tony was a good investigator, one of the best, and he had noticed that when Ziva had felt stressed, her hand would drift up to the area on her chest where _**it **_used to be and was no longer. A look of deep sadness would cross her eyes and sometimes they would glisten with tears before she blinked them away. He never asked her what happened to it, but it was obviously gone forever and she mourned the loss. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Hey, come on in," Tony said, swinging his door wide, allowing the delicious aroma of his family's lasagna to drift into the hall.

Ziva held up a double wine bag. "I have brought our favorite wine."

"Great! Let me take your coat," he offered. "I hope you're hungry because I think I made too much." The last was because, even after months back in America, Ziva still had not regained all the weight she had lost while...gone. Tony didn't like to dwell on what happened to her in Somalia. He saw how almost completely broken she had been when they carried her out of the camp and the painful physical, mental and emotional recovery she went through and was still going through. _"I am ready to die." _still haunted him.

"I am, Tony," she said simply. She knew her appetite wasn't back to it's former vigor and she often threw out a large portions of her lunches because she just couldn't finish and if she tried, unfortunate things would happen. So, she was taking it slow, like her doctor told her to do, like all her doctors told her to do. It was better, but not great.

"It's just about ready, so why don't I show the lady a seat?" Tony said, giving her his arm. When she took it, he peered into the wine bag. "Excellent choice, my lady."

Ziva let out a small laugh and gave his arm a squeeze. "You are such a goof."

Tony smiled and escorted Ziva to her seat at his dining room table. "Sit and I'll open the wine and serve. Help yourself to the garlic bread. You know I made it. The salad will be coming up in a minute."

Ziva sat and marveled at Tony's resiliency. She had accused him of murder, lost her trust in him through her own anger and hurt and then fled NCIS. He had chased her down, lead the team into Somalia and personally rescued her out of Saleem Ulman's terrorist camp. He sat, patiently, at her bedside in Germany as she went through a battery of frightening tests and then, was tender with her at Bethseda on coming home. Home. This America, was really her home now and she studied hard to learn everything she needed to know to become a United States citizen. She feared her first summons for jury duty. She did not think the rest of the natural jurors would appreciate her Mossad morals. Israel would always be her homeland, she would always call herself Israeli, but America was the home that saved her. NCIS saved her. Gibbs' team saved her. Tony saved her.

She shook herself out of the contemplation that was far too much these days and reached for a soft, warm piece of garlic bread. She bit into it, savoring the expert flavor. Lots of delicious garlic, but not too much. It was warm and comforting on this wet and chill January night. Her stomach growled and she realised that she had frgotten to eat breakfast and lunch and was very hungry."Tony, the garlic bread is great, but-"

"You need the main dish!" Tony announced, carrying the pan of lasagna into the dining room. He set it down, went into the kitchen and opened the wine. He brought out two glasses of it. "Now, for the meal." He served her a conservative amount of salad and lasagna, hoping she could take the most of it in. He worried about her almost constantly. She was regaining herself, but he still worried.

Ziva took a bite of the lasagna, felt her tummy growl in hunger and sighed. "I have missed this. Pass the garlic bread, please."

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Dinner done and dishes in the dish washer and Tony and Ziva relaxed on the couch brought Tony's courage to the front. "Listen, Ziva, I have a late Hanukkah gift for you. The last day of Hanukkah I gave you chocolate; I really wanted it to be something else. The exact thing I wanted for you was back ordered and didn't come in until yesterday. It's been killing me to not give it to you until now. Please accept the late gift. Happy Hanukkah."

Tony handed her a small gift wrapped in silver and blue.

Ziva's shaking hands held the tiny gift. "You did not have to, Tony. I never expect gifts but always treasure them."

"I know I didn't have to."

She, with shaking hands, tore the wrapping paper off and then took in the little velvet box.

Hands shaking almost uncontrollably, she opened the box and gasped. Tears came to her eyes and she was powerless to stop them. They cascaded down her cheeks. In this simple box was a replica of her Star of David that Saleem ripped from her neck and threw on the dirt, ground it in and spit on. It had been lost forever in Somalia.

Her voice was choked, but she managed to speak, "Thank you, Tony." and she kissed him on both cheeks and then wept onto his chest.

Tony held her, knowing hr tears were ones of healing and joy. He saw that light in her eyes before she broke down. It was healing joy. Tony's own eyes teared, knowing his gift helped her to heal a little more.

She gazed at the pendant with deep love. She might not be practicing, but she was Jewish and this was a special symbol of her identity. "Tony, will you help me put this on?"

"Sure," he said, taking it from her trembling fingers and deftly fastening it around her neck. When it settled on her chest, she took the pendant, raised it to her lips and kissed it, murmuring Hebrew over it before letting it rest back down. "Said a prayer?"

"Yes."

"Does it help anything?" Tony asked, afraid the answer might be no.

Ziva let out a small smile. "It will not ever bring back my old Star, which Eli gave me at my Bat Mitzvah, but it conveys the same kind of pride and love. Acceptance of who I am and where I came from; of who I am to be. Thank you. Tony. I do not have words for what I feel." Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks.

Tony gathered her in his arms again, happy that he could make her so happy. "Mazel Tove."


End file.
